if you'd chosen to wake up the
sun might shine or you
might curl up, ball of flesh, and
watch tree leaves sway,
break,
fall in steady inconsistencies,
like you fall
all eyelids, at least
all fluttering, beating moments
displacing air to thousandth degrees,
pretending not to care or
to have wished to have been
able to,
you
smile, it is empty,
like the sounds of a shoreline,
or the dripping tap
in a laundry or
miscellaneous room.

you sit down
and cry,
quiet as the tap.
it is heard for miles.
down and down and down and
out.